Tell Her About It
by tajuki
Summary: After a row that the entire Gryffindor house will be discussing for years to come, Ron gets a little advice from his brothers about honesty and girls. Set to the tune of Billy Joel's 'Tell Her About It'-- and rather fun to lindy-hop to!


Disclaimer: I own the plot of this meager fic-let. J.K. Rowling owns Fred, George and Ron Weasley as well as Hermione Granger. Yep! You've guessed it! Billy Joel is the inspiring talent behind the classic 'Tell Her About It'. 

Author's Note: This song fiction takes place in _Goblet of Fire, just after the Yule Ball and Ron and Hermione's now-famous row. As always, praise and criticism are equally welcome and I encourage feedback. In my quirky tradition, I song fic only to the great Billy Joel. Odd, I know. I just don't find any other songs worthy. Well, enough explanation. Enjoy __'Tell Her About It'._

***

                As Ron was greeted by a bleak, day-after-Christmas gray sky, he kicked his covers off and scanned the room. He vaguely wondered what time it was as he noticed that he was nearly alone. A lump under the covers of Neville's four-poster announced his unconscious presence. 

                Ron's mood was as clouded as the weather and he was glad for his quasi-seclusion. He half-remembered the argument he'd had with Hermione the night before. He knew he'd accused her of some pretty far-fetched things, "fraternizing with the enemy". What was he thinking? 

                One thing was solidified by the evening's events. He hated Viktor Krum. 

                Didn't Hermione understand what a breech of their friendship her accepting to be his partner was? He knew she wasn't dim. She was making a point of some kind. He just didn't have the mental capacity at the moment to guess what sort of a statement she'd been going for. 

                His mind, to his ultimate frustration, kept wandering to the scene they'd made downstairs. All he could remember was how gloriously alluring her hair looked as it came wildly out of its knot. She was incredibly beautiful in a full-out-run-for-your-life sort of way as she stood screaming at him from the other side of the room. He was surprised that he hadn't noticed it last night. 

                He was an idiot for not rushing across the room, taking her in his arms in some sappy black and white film sort of fashion and stopping her with a kiss. And he very much wanted to as he shouted back, amid the glares and whispers of their entire house. 

                She'd probably never talk to him now. His heart sank with the sick realization. 

                He hadn't much more time to ponder his bleak romantic fate as a knock at the door called him from his self-loathing. 

                Eager not to disturb Neville, (he knew a sonic boom wouldn't wake him, but remained mindful of his friend's peace and quiet) he rushed over to the door and cracked it a smidge.

                "Fred, George? What do you want?" he asked, dreading the answer. He became painfully aware of their presence downstairs last night as they both wore devilish grins. 

                Ron groaned. 

                 _"Listen boy_

_                Don't want to see you let a good thing slip away…"_

_                They both pushed their way through the door, adamant to be heard, whether equally adamant to be taken seriously, Ron couldn't tell. It was a good guess that they were just trying to created a personal hell for him. Sweet, caring brothers they were not. _

                "Shh! Neville's still asleep!" he grouched as they flopped onto vacant beds. He shut the door and resigned him to his particularly strange fate. 

                "_You know I don't like watching anybody_

_                Make the same mistake I made…"_

_                Fred threw one of Harry's pillows, hitting George on the side of the head as he sang comically. _

                "Er, I wouldn't necessarily term that a mistake in the classic sense of the word, George. Shoving that troll of yours off the edge was the smartest thing you've ever done," Fred corrected. 

                "Beside the point, dear brother. And I still maintain that Greta Rigby was a nice girl," George replied. 

                "And I still maintain that she was a transvestite," Fred argued. 

                _"She's a real nice girl _

_                And she's always there for you _

_                But a nice girl wouldn't tell you what you should do…"_

_                Ron scoffed at this last part. "Oh, no she wouldn't? She lives to boss me around."_

                "Yes, little brother. But the point is that she lives for you," George pointed out wisely. 

                "Even if it is to make your life a living hell," Fred added. 

                _"Listen boy_

_                I'm sure that you think you've got it _

_                All under control_

_                You don't want somebody telling you the way_

_                To stay in someone's soul…"_

_                Fred was dangling from Harry's bed in a precarious position that suggested he may fall on his head in a minute. He pulled himself up concealing some small article in his hand. _

                "And it's not by transforming your Krum action figure into a voodoo doll," he said, tossing a remnant of the once miniature figurine to a scowling Ron. 

                "Have you been listening to dad's cheesy muggle records again?" he asked. 

                "Yes. And Mr. Joel isn't cheesy," Fred admitted. 

                "He happens to be a Downtown Man with a real flare for capturing the strife and struggles that come with human nature. You can learn a lot from the Piano Man, you know," George added, "besides you're missing the point of our discussion, young and naïve one."

                "And what is that?" Ron asked acidly, "that you've had a great fall down the main staircase, rendering you remedial idiots?"

                "No," George said, slightly offended.              

                "We were remedial idiots from birth," Fred finished.

                _"You're a big boy now_

_                You'll never let her go_

_                But that's just the sort of thing she ought to know…"_

_                "Shouldn't you be preaching your stupid doctrine to __Vikie? That's who she fancies, isn't it?" Ron spat, annoyed. _

                "You're prodigiously dim sometimes, little brother," George said with a theatrical shake of his head. 

                _"Tell her about it_

_                Tell her everything you feel_

_                Give her every reason to accept that your for real…"_

_                "Oh and leave off pointing out her gender for her. I'm sure she's aware of it by now," Fred added. _

                "You heard about that?" Ron asked, astonished. 

                "Yep, Ginny thought we might be able to use it, so she told us the whole crash-and-burn story. She's such a dear, sweet child," George said. 

                Ron shook his head incredulously. 

                _"Tell her about it_

_                Tell her all your crazy dreams_

_                Let her know you need her_

_                Let her know how much she means…"_

_                "Do I even have to tell her about that weird one where I ended up going to Charms in just my socks and Harry was a spider monkey?" Ron interrupted. _

                Fred and George winced and shot each other questioning looks. 

                "That one we might save for another Billy Joel song," George answered uncertainly, looking to Fred, "Do you think we might be able to sort that one out?"

                Fred shook his head gravely, "I'm not touching it. You're on your own with that one, mate."

                _"Listen boy_

_                It's not automatically a certain guarantee_

_                To insure yourself_

_                You've got to provide communication constantly…"_

_                "Then what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were trying to help me—although I'm not quite sure either of you are qualified to dispense good advice," Ron raged doubtfully. _

                _"When you love someone_

_                You're always insecure_

_                And there's only one good way to reassure…"_

_                "Oh? And what is that?" Ron raised his eyebrows challengingly, folding his arms in front of him. _

                Fred and George gave each other weary glances. 

                _"Tell her about it_

_                Let her know who much you care…"_

_                George started laughing. _

                "You're ruining the moment, George," Fred groused. 

                "I know. But I just remembered last night," he continued to laugh. 

                "Oh? What was so special about last night? I don't remember much," Fred admitted. 

                "When you asked Angelina to come with you to the broom shed…were you letting her know how much you cared?" George raised an accusing eyebrow at his brother. 

                "You bet," Fred answered enthusiastically. 

                "And I suppose that shiner is evidence of how much she cared to join you?" George asked, smiling amusedly. 

                Ron rolled his eyes. 

                "Guys, we were talking about me, weren't we?" he huffed impatiently. 

                "Oh, so now your heeding our grains of wisdom?" George snapped. 

                "Grains of wisdom?" Ron repeated incredulously. 

                "Take it or leave it," Fred offered, holding up his hands. 

                "I'll take it. Just get to the point," Ron snapped. 

                _"When she can't be with you _

_                Tell her you wish you were there…"_

_                "Now does that count when she's in Arithmancy? Because I don't think I can lie to her," Ron admitted. _

                "Ron, dear. Will you stop being so bloody literal minded?" George snapped. 

                _"Tell her about it_

_                Everyday before you leave_

_                Pay her some attention      _

_                Giver her something to believe_

_                'Cause now and then she'll get to worrying_

_                Just because you haven't spoken for so long_

_                Though you may not have done anything_

_                Will that be a consolation when she's gone?"_

_                "I do pay her attention," Ron said defensively. _

                Fred and George both shook their heads, "We 're not talking about borrowing her Transfiguration notes," Fred said tactfully. 

                "We're talking about inviting her to the Astronomy Tower to look at the stars," George suggested. 

                Fred was laughing, "Way to put it delicately, George," he said. "Looking at the stars," he repeated, making quotations with his fingers. 

                "You're both jackasses," announced Ron, flinging his feet over the railing of his bed. 

                _"Listen boy_

_                It's good information from a man who's made mistakes…"_

_                "Yep," George chimed in, "Mistakes like asking Professor McGonagall to the Yule Ball."_

                "You didn't!" Fred asked in awe. "I thought you were just kidding about that?"

                "Nope," George said proudly. "She used to be a pin-up, I heard. Ah, it wouldn't have worked out, though," he admitted, "She's too tall."

                "Urgh!" Ron groaned, "You've just taken me to a very dark and scary mental place."

                Fred nodded his head in agreement, "And too old."

                "Ah, what I wouldn't give to have been born sixty years or more ago. We could have had something special," George continued nostalgically, crossing his hands behind his head and leaning back on his borrowed bed. 

                "Why don't you tell her about it?" Ron asked, sarcasm oozing from every syllable. 

                _"Just a word or two that she gets from you_

_                Could be the difference that it makes_

_                She's a trusting soul and she's put her trust in you_

_                But a girl like that won't tell you what you should do…"_

_                "So you think I should—," Ron began but was interrupted. _

                _"Tell her about it_

_                Tell her everything you feel_

_                Give her every reason to accept that you're for real_

_                Tell her about it_

_                Tell her all your crazy dreams…"_

_                "Now that I think about it, baby bro, you ought to leave that crazy monkey one out of it," Fred said pensively. _

                "But, you can tell her about that one where she's locked in Honeydukes with you and all that chocolate," George added with a wink. 

                "That's not my dream," Ron said dimly. 

                "Make it up, Ron," George insisted. 

                _"Let her know you need her_

_                Let her know how much she means…"_

_                "But she knows how much she means to me," Ron said pathetically, "doesn't she?"_

                "Did she go with you to the Yule Ball? Or did she take Krum?" Fred asked. 

                _"Tell her about it_

_                Tell her how you feel right now_

_                Tell her about it_

_                The girl don't want to wait too long_

_                You got to tell her about it_

_                Tell her now and you won't go wrong…"_

_                "Okay, okay. I get the point!" Ron shouted. "But what do I say?"_

                George shook his head, "And he thinks we are the remedial idiots."

                _"You got to tell her about it_

_                Before it gets too late you've go to _

_                Tell her about it_

_                You know the girl don't want wait_

_                You got to tell her about it."_

_                Ron jumped from his bed and ran nervous hands through his hair. _

                "Where are you going?" Fred asked. 

                "I've got to find Hermione," Ron said, half out the door already. 

                "But you're still in your pajamas," Fred pointed out reasonably. 

                "I don't care and she shouldn't either when she hears me out," he shouted excitedly. He appeared moments later and thanked the two of them hurriedly adding, "Maybe you should tell that one to Harry. I think Ginny's losing patience with him." And he disappeared again. 

                Fred and George exchanged furious glances. 

                "Oh, we're not going to sing to him. We're going to hunt him down and beat the hell out of him," Fred announced to no one in particular. 

                The duet jumped from their perches on commandeered  beds and charged out the door. 

                Neville sat up and looked after them, tousle-haired and bleary eyed. "I wonder if it's to do with the hair color or a chemical imbalance?" he asked himself before shoving a pillow over his face and falling silently back to sleep. 


End file.
